Cubicles
by Patrick the Stump
Summary: Sometimes I think I'll die alone - I ran away, because that's what I do best. I'm a coward, really, you know?


**A/N**: A huge thankyou to Livvi, who finally got me to write cousincest, and because she's just the best, okay?

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><p><span>Cubicles<span>

_Sometimes I think I'll die alone – live and breathe and die alone._

My feet pounded on the pavement. I had to get away from there. Away from the noise and the excessive smiling and everyone pretending to be one big happy family. They stood there, with false grins plastered to their face, as Molly pretended not to feel guilty about the fact that she was marrying Teddy, and Victoire pretended not to be sour and Rose pretended that she didn't find Scorpius attractive and Albus pretended not to notice. In the Weasley-Potter family, there weren't secrets; there was just a whole bunch of people pretending not to know the obvious, because really, pretending avoids confrontation. And avoiding confrontation in turn avoids truth. I never really understand why the Weasley-Potters where so famous for being Gryffindors – we were cowards, really, hiding behind a charade of nice words and toothy grimaces.

I jumped the fence surrounding The Burrow, and headed of into the surrounding fields. My heart pounded painfully in my chest but my feet kept thudding satisfyingly against the ground. Maybe this was my personal form of masochism. My breath was coming hard and heavy, as I clenched my jaw and ran harder and further. I needed to get as far away from that house I could. I guess I was a coward too – I was avoiding confrontation, I was avoiding truth and I was avoiding _him._

I reached a point where I just couldn't keep running. My legs were too tired, my chest was sore and I was shaking all over. I was miles away from The Burrow by this point, the large, crumbling building barely a dot in the distance. Sweat was causing my hair to cling to my forehead and I was beginning to shiver. My chest felt damp and my body felt messy. I didn't care. I was far away from everything, which was my purpose, after all.

In the distance alone, bony tree silhouetted against the dusk. It was tall, and looked sturdy enough for me to get a foothold. Maybe having my feet of the ground would help convince myself that the world I regularly stood on wasn't real. I used my last burst of energy to reach the tree, my hands scraping along the ragged bark as I almost embraced it, glad that I could be safe from myself for even just a few moments while I rested in its branches. I grabbed hold of a low hanging branch and pulled myself up. The branch was wet and thorny and unstable, but God, at that moment it was just perfect. I almost felt happy as I sat on my lonely branch, clinging to the trunk for dear life and soaking in the air. I wasn't breathing the same air as my family anymore; I wasn't breathing the same air as _him_. I wasn't surrounded by those family photos and another thousand redheads that basically just proved that what I felt – what I wanted – was wrong.

It's wrong – I told myself

I hate him – I told myself

And I almost believed it.

I closed my eyes, refusing to let them ((him)) ruin this. I breathed in, that air that really wasn't tainted, and breathed out. As I exhaled, it felt as if I was almost breathing out the bad things, detoxing myself from everything. My family were the carbon dioxide – polluting and destroying and suffocating. But they were constant and solid and unmoving – they weren't something I could avoid completely. The most I could do was escape every once in a while, and just run.

I breathed out again and again, ridding myself of them, pushing them away and locking them out. The funny thing was though, every time I took my next, necessary breath, I only inhaled them once more. It was an inescapable circle – as long as I was breathing, they were in me.

Hot tears trickled down my cheeks as I fought to not breath, as I fought to not open my lungs to them once more. I failed, gasping for unwelcome air that came harsh and biting, cutting my throat with its snide comments and false smiles.

I opened my eyes glumly. Louis was standing a few meters away, watching my show with pain in his eyes.

My shock didn't even register, just my anger and resentment. Why was he ruining this, too? It couldn't be called my happy place, really, but it was my not-quite-happy-but-a lot-happier-than-home place. And I really needed to keep it like this. Without this tree and the emptiness and the unpolluted air, I had nothing.

I yelled obscenities as I jumped down, not even noticing the sharp pain in my ankle as it twisted beneath me. I didn't even look at the willowy boy as I turned and began to run again, and this time I was running from something immediate – because I really, really couldn't stand to talk to him.

I felt a pair of strong hands clamp around my wrists and yank me back. I struggled, but Louis held tight, pulling me to him. It was over. I couldn't, I really couldn't fight anymore. I was weak and had taken too many falls. I couldn't always dust myself off and come back twice as hard. Sometimes giving up was the only option left.

More tears fell down my cheeks, and Louis loosed his grip. I wiped them away with my sleeve, sinking to my knees and burying my head in my hands.

"Why do you run?" Louis asked. His voice was soft, but I could hear the edge behind it.

"Because," I spat, "Because one day, maybe I just won't be able to stop, and I'll finally be safe from you."

I glared up at him, hoping to wound him. It wasn't his fault I was a freak. It wasn't his fault that I had a warped mind. It wasn't his fault I was so past messed up, that I wanted him and everything I shouldn't want. It wasn't his fault, but I had to believe that it was someone's, anyone's but mine.

"So you're running away?" It was almost if it wasn't a question.

"Why else would I be running?" I asked, harshly, still refusing to meet his eyes.

He ignored my question, instead asking his own, "There's nothing to run from, you know."

I looked up, and he was knelt right beside me. I could feel his warm breath tickling my cheek. I turned to face him, still unable to meet his eyes and feel that strange emotion coursing through my veins that I refused to believe was anything other than cousinly love. I sickened myself.

He pushed my strand of Weasley red hair behind my ear. It was the exact same colour as his, just another reason why we were oh so wrong for eachother. It wouldn't work, it couldn't work – it wasn't right.

He was so close, his forehead rested against mine, his eyes desperately trying to find my own. He leaned in closer, our lips almost touching.

I couldn't. I wanted to, but really, I couldn't.

I stood up too quickly, my head spinning and catching my breath, which was now even more polluted with memories than the burrow. I did what came naturally to me. What I'd been doing for so many years. What was more instinctual than breathing or eating or sleeping.

I ran away.

_I think I'd love to die alone._

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><p><strong>AN: **The title and the song lyrics come from the song 'Cubicles' by My Chemical Romance, which I had on repeat the entire way through writing this.

Please review. They mean more than the world to me, honestly.


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